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Published: January 8th 2009
The City
Sun over the ruins on the morning of the 3 day. About 30 miles east from Taganga, where I spent the holidays, is the beautiful Tayrona National Park. Within this park, at the foothills of the Sierra Nevada mountains is nestled Ciudad Perdida, "The Lost City." Built between 700-900, this city was all but forgotten for hundreds of years and only rediscovered in 1976. The stone work and structures are similar to other ruins in South and Central America but unlike for example, Machu Picchu, Ciudad Perdida does not have public access and for the most part remains inaccessible. The only way to visit the city is to trek for 5 or 6 days through the jungle. One of my friends James, and I undertook the adventurous challenge and signed up for a 5 day trek from the 27th-31st of December.
The adventure began at 7:00am, when we left our hostel in Sierra tour company´s jeep. After driving on the main road for about an hour we turn onto a bumpy dirt road that ascends a lush green mountain side. The road is extremely narrow and I try to avoid looking at both the enormous drop on one side and the ravines, pot-holes and rivers that lay in the road before
The Guide
Our guide, Miguel, bounding up a hill on the first day. us, that more than once send us fishtailing towards what I assume is total disaster. At one such river/ mud crossing, I am surprised to see our driver switch into four wheel drive. I turn to James alarmed, "What! He hasn´t been in four wheel drive this whole time?" We debate how this could be and conclude that maybe I have miss seen, when we both see him clearly switch out of gear despite the continuously rough road.
Finally the jeep ride ends and we begin the seven hours of hiking that lay ahead. At first we nearly skip along, eager and excited. Sweat pours down us within minutes but we remain unfazed. We even embrace the first hill with vigorous steps even though it is riddled with dozens of switchbacks. The dedication to our efforts is rewarded when we reach the first real resting spot an hour ahead of schedule. Here we gulp down water, trying to replenish the torrents of sweat we are loosing, and munch bananas from a bunch hanging on the porch of a lone house on the hillside.
The hill continues on after our rest and the midday heat and crumbly mud make
Views on The 1st Day
Although I barely took my eyes off my feet the entire day, I did manage to get a few pictures of the landscape before we headed into the jungle. it seem to last forever. Only occasionally do I lift me head to take in the beautiful vista that flanks the left side of the trail. There are lush mountains of jungle in the distance looking misty almost, under the thick air and swarming heat. Closer are mountains covered with less dense vegetation and dotted with small crops, cows and one or two tiny thatched houses.
The hills go on and on and I can't quite imagine that we still have five hours of hiking to go. I brace myself against my aching calves and hungry lungs and with determination trudge up the final first hills. The guide and I arrive at the top followed by James who is looking tired and a little sheepish. He joins us to the jesting of an army official who is posted at the top of the hill. Upon recognizing this, James feels obliged to comment to me. "Wow, I didn´t see that coming, I´m getting my ass kicked by a girl." (all with an English accent of course). Not wanting to further embarrass him, and only slightly inflated by my superior hill climbing ability, I just smile and tell him not to
Resident Toucan
At lunch on the first day we were surprised to see a Toucan enjoying some food under the table. question his manliness or ever doubt my ability again.
We eat lunch in one of the lodges along the trail. They are not what comes to mind when you think of a lodge but they function quite well as shelter in the jungle. They are a series of thatched sin wall structures with hard packed dirt floors and cooking facilities at one end. We eat and drink with determination as we still have four hours to go.
Our 20 year old mountain goat guide, Miguel, skips effortlessly ahead as usual as we begin the second leg of day one. The terrain changes and we are now embraced in thick clingy drippy jungle. The trail is muddy and little streams frequently interrupt our path. On either side of the trail there are banana and ginger plants and the air is thick and sweet.
Occasionally we come across an indigenous village, where we can see the children peering at us from around thatched mud huts. Or the adults, dressed all in white sheet like clothing look up from their weaving or cooking to observe our passage. They are small people, sturdily built and strong, but with skinny limbs. They
Vista 2nd day
Our reward for an hour climb up hill. are fairly andogyenous and it is difficult to tell their age; even young mothers and fathers seem old in a wise, mature sort of way. They either wear rubber boots or go barefoot. The men carry machetes and the women have strands of brightly colored beads resting between their breasts and often weave while they walk along the trail; an impossible seeming feet as it that takes all of my concentration not to stumble. Many of the indigenous people come to the camps where the gringos stay in the evening, to eat the left over food from our dinners. I am happy that some of the money we pay for the trip goes to support these villages because although they are used to a simple un-materialistic lifestyle it is apparent how little they have.
By around 4:00 in the afternoon we are exhausted. We are completely drenched in sweat and mud, it looks as though we have just emerged from the river, which unfortunately is not the case; it is simply half our body´s water accumulated in our clothing. I laugh as James squeezes streams of sweat from his shirt. We are thankful when our guide stops at a
Boy With His Pack
One of the boys who helped carry our food to the city. river for a rest and snack. He rips a huge banana leaf from a nearby tree and lays it over a rock near the water. He then produces the pineapple he has been carrying, peels it with his large knife and slices thick slabs or it for us. We relish the juicy yellow fruit and try to savor it partially in order to prolong our break. But within minutes I am swatting at mosquitoes and despite layers of deet, we both have a few itchy welts.
Once we start walking again the bugs vanish and it is not long before we reach camp. The rain is just beginning to fall, and when we get under shelter we can barely move or speak and hardly make an effort to introduce ourselves to the rest of our group, who has had tow full days to walk the stretch we just finished. Despite our overwhelming fatigue I manage to find the energy to take a swim in the river. It is slightly downhill from our camp and is beautiful. The water moves swiftly and there is a little waterfall on the opposite bank. It is cold, coming directly from the mountains and
my hot tired body is a little in shock at the temperature, but I know the cold is good for my muscles and so I stay in and let my legs become thoroughly chilled.
After a dinner of rice, beans and chicken (we had rice at every meal, and beans at most), I am completely ready for sleep even though it is only around seven. Brushing my teeth I watch the fireflies flit and glint in the darkness, its like watching a tiny village far away. Bats dart in and out of the beam of my headlamp; the jungle is so alive. I hear bull-frogs and crickets and noises I can´t identify and I am comforted being so far away from towns and modern conveniences yet surrounded and awakened by all of the creatures and life in the jungle.
After not the most restful night spent adjusting in my hammock under a thick wool blanket, we set out on another long day of hiking. It is hot and before eight I am sweating. The day starts with a huge hill that for an hour leads us straight up. We are rewarded with magnificent vistas at the summit but
I am almost too tired to snap pictures, but I do manage to get out my camera and get some good photos of the mountains while the sun is still soft and before the afternoon clouds set in.
Our hour up hill is followed by a gradual hour down and at about 11am we finally are back down at the river. One would presume that on level ground things would be less strenuous but considering we have to cross the quick flowing river eight times, it is apparent that our mental and physical tenacity is still in demand. As we make our way across the river for the final time we see the stairs that lead us to the Lost City; we are almost home but not quite, there are well over 1,000 stairs to climb before we get there. They magically and steeply lead up into the jungle and from the river you cannot guess as to how far up or in which direction they go, as they quickly vanish into the jungle thicket. The construction of the staircase is beautiful, if not symmetrical. Each stair is narrow and tall which makes it a tiresome climb. James and
I take turns resting or taking pictures along the way in order to allow the other not to feel too guilty about wanting to stop every 50 stairs or so.
Although the first set of ruins we reach isn´t very impressive, we are convinced that we are finally there. After taking a picture at all 360 degrees we are informed that we have another 20 minutes worth of stairs ahead of us. As we ascend we see pockets of ruins through the trees; circular stone walls with flat lawns on top and little steep staircases leading from one plateau to the next. When we reach the top of the grand ruins, the view and whole panorama is incredible. The ruins themselves are marvelous, while at the same time soft and tranquil. The uneven weathered stones blend into a landscape of lush forest and skyward palms. Little thatched roofs dot the landscape and don´t intrude as modern structures would on this beautiful place. The view is breathtaking, as you stand on the round swatches of grass, lush mountains and a gouging valley extend your gaze past the Lost City into the wonder of Tayrona. A waterfall glistens white in the
Stairs
We equated taking pictures to resting, so we took a lot of pictures on the stairs. distance and you can never escape the sound of rushing water from the various streams that flow nearby. Even the dozens of army men around don´t offend the senses. Perhaps it is their necessity and amiability that shapes this opinion. Ciudad Perdida has seen its share of crime, from a tourist kidnapping sometime between 2000-2005 to tomb robbers looking for gold a few years ago. Or maybe it is their dark green uniforms that function as they are meant to as camouflage in the jungle that makes their presence seem ok. In fact they are quite a friendly bunch due in part to their boredom and being used to dealing with happy gringos every day. They are more than happy to have their picture taken with you and eagerly hand over their guns grinning. They will even sell you army mementos, such as bullets, hats and dog tags, non of which I bought.
The afternoon of the second and the morning of the third day we spent exploring. And at about 10am on the 3rd day we said our farewells to the city and were headed back down the trail. The trek back was much more relaxed with time
to jump off rocks into stunning river pools, amble rather than stride along the trails, and play games at our camps. Everyone in our group was very pleasant and we spent hours after hiking and after the sun had gone down sitting around joking and sharing stories. In all there were two Americans including myself, a German, five English, one Australian and one Israeli.
On the final day we were all eager to get back; it was the 31st of December, our clothes smelled and were either wet crumpled in our bags or wet hanging from our bodies. We were all itching the bites that covered our legs and our hair was salty and greasy and in desperate need of either washing or shaving. After showers and prepping back in Taganga we somehow all managed to rally and bring in the New Year together. We counted down to midnight at the beach under the palms and stars, where when 12:00am was announced someone jumped into the glistening water hollering "Happy New Year! Happy 2009!!!"
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Kathleen
non-member comment
Angela, This is an amazing account of a truly fantastic trip you took! I am so envious. You will never forget it your whole life. You write really well, too. The first time I skimmed it, but then went back and read it again more carefully. Kudos! Love, Kath